The sun was setting as we pulled up into the driveway of my grandparents old place. Not the best time to pick apples, but it was the best I could do with the busy day I'd had. We hopped out of the car and sprinted into the field beyond the house. Up the slope we went, baskets, ladder, and rake in tow. Believe it or not, we had two bushels of the biggest, most beautiful apples picked within a few minutes. We hauled them back to the car with the help of my iPhone flashlight, and away we went.
Straight to the kitchen where I started on the applesauce, apple butter, fried apples, apple cider, apple pies....all thanks to Grandpa, who planted that apple tree years ago. No one ever asked him what variety it was. He's gone now, but that tree left untended, unsprayed, and unpruned still produces some of the biggest, pest-free, tastiest apples around. Good job, Grandpa!
Straight to the kitchen where I started on the applesauce, apple butter, fried apples, apple cider, apple pies....all thanks to Grandpa, who planted that apple tree years ago. No one ever asked him what variety it was. He's gone now, but that tree left untended, unsprayed, and unpruned still produces some of the biggest, pest-free, tastiest apples around. Good job, Grandpa!
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